


Full Speed in the Wrong Direction

by orphan_account



Category: AFI
Genre: Angst, Decemberunderground era, Implied Het, Implied self-injury, M/M, Post-Break Up, tourbus fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3167318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AFI are on their way towards Fresno in the middle of the DU tour, and the unfortunate scenery has put Davey in an awful mood. Oh, that and the fact Jade won't even goddamn look at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Speed in the Wrong Direction

**Author's Note:**

> This is short and sweet. I wrote it because I was burnt out on smut, and in an terrible mood after being stuck in California's central valley, which is pretty much the ass crack of the state. It's one of many DU era fics that take place partially on the tour bus, and feature an out-dated Diva Davey of epic proportions. 
> 
> This is so old, it's probably terrible. Read at your own risk.

The central valley made Davey forget he was even in California, it was so desolate and ugly. They were hauling up to Fresno for a show and Davey was bedded down in his bunk, headphones on obscenely loud and book opened on his stomach. He tried not to read on the road, it made his head ache and more than once he'd made himself sick and forced the driver to pull over so he could puke on the snow by the side of the highway. He was feeling particularly antisocial today, though, and burying himself in a book and in his bunk with the ipod seemed to be the only thing that kept people off his ass. Except Jade, of course. Jade wouldn't come within a twenty foot radius of Davey's ass, much less speak to him. Every once and awhile Davey would heave himself out and hunt down some crackers or dried fruit, glancing out the window at the endless, sprawling fields and crops. 

It was a bleak, foggy afternoon in the valley and the view from the window was bathed in grey, everything doused in a misty wetness that made the world appear as if covered in soot. "Yeauch," was all Davey had to say to anyone the entire drive thus far, a comment directed at no one in particular, just a general observation about the weather and the scenery. After that momentary contribution he was back to sulking, hair tucked into the hood of his sweatshirt, The Killers Sam's Town on full blast. 

Davey was having a bad day. And not for any particular reason, no, it was just one of those mornings when he woke up with a horrible, sinking, I-don't-want-to-get-up-and-face-the-world-today feeling overwhelming his stomach. He thought it might wear off by mid afternoon if he got involved in a book or something, but quite the contrary he'd been steadily getting worse off, hating the world and the weather and the God forsaken central valley more and more with each passing mile. He was almost too wrapped up in brooding like a teenager to notice the bus roll to a jolting stop. Almost, because his stomach sunk even lower when he sensed they weren't moving anymore. Why prolong being in this miserable, ugly place? Davey forgot the thing even existed, this bible belt of methlab and farming towns strung together like cranberries and popcorn on a Christmas streamer. He pulled his headphones out, huffing in irritation. 

Right on cue he heard Hunter shouting, "Dave we stopped at a stand for fruit, you can come in if you want..." rapping his knuckles against something as is voice trailed out of the bus, drowned out by the elephantine steps of a herd of men thumping out into the wet cold. Fruit. Hm. Davey could use something to eat, he'd been living off of trail mix, dried apricots, and black coffee for the last few days. He zipped his hoodie up to his chin, slipping shoes on and stumbling out of the warm bus with its still whirring engine to the solitary fruit stand. It wasn't actually a stand, as Hunter's description had belied, but more of a shack in the middle of fucking nowhere, cow country spreading out as far as the eye could see on either side. He felt weird and lonely, one man standing there pigeon toed with the wing of black hair poking out from his hood blowing obnoxiously in his eyes next to his massive bus, surrounded by so much empty, fertile land. He scampered in where it was warmer, teeth grinding together, legs aching.

Everyone but Jade stared at Davey when he made his grand entrance into the fruit where house, jingle bells clattering together on the door, announcing his arrival. Everyone looked away again once they saw it was him, except for the guys who were working at the place, one Mexican dude with a handlebar mustache unpacking pears from wooden crates, and another heavily tattooed cholo looking guy at the register. They kept right on staring, the one with the pears friendly face cracking into an enormously amused smile. Davey rolled his eyes, feeling ridiculous. He usually felt ridiculous, seeing as he was always overdressed or underdressed for something, but this particular occasion was singularly mortifying. He felt ridiculous because usually he'd have a nice snarky comment for them, a blown kiss or a testy, what are you looking at, handsome? With which he'd attach a nice pop of his hips. This time he was exhausted and depressed, though, and he didn't have the energy nor dedication to respond with anything but an awkward grimace. He shuffled to the bathroom, which was located conveniently to his direct left. 

There he sat on the toilet, not shitting or anything, just staring at his shoes with his pants still on and buttoned. They were white Vans slip ons with pigs silk-screened onto them. The simply drawn farm animals stared mockingly back at Davey, forcing him to replay the scene in his head over and over again of him barging into the Fruit Stand and Jade actively ignoring him. Much like last night onstage in San Diego, where Jade had once again, actively ignored him. So maybe Davey's misery wasn't out of nowhere after all, and was more closely related to Jade and Jade's perpetual bitch fit. As much as it pained Davey to admit that Jade had the power to make him feel anything, much less cause him to plunge into a depression like a high schooler after her first break up, he was pretty sure this was where it was coming from. 

Davey was in one of those desperate moods that made his fists itch to come into contact with something, (namely Jade, but anything would do). This state of fury and frantic neediness left him feeling hollow, invisible, craving anyone to look at him and shake him and tell him to knock it off, just so he could smack their hand away and tell them to fuck off. Tell them he didn't need their pity, their love, anything. All he needed was his music, the kind he wrote and the kind he listened to, and after that he was set. Set inside the Bell Jar, and everyone else could just go die in a fire. The kind of mood that made him lock himself in bathrooms and cry in dry, heaving, silent tearless sobs just so he could feel anything. The kinds of moods he thought he'd grow out of by high school. Wishful thinking, he supposed. 

He finally decided he could face his friends and band mates, even the perturbed workers who couldn't get over his appearance. After all, the bathroom was shockingly clean and white, even pristine to the point of it being sterile. It reminded him of a hospital, kind of freaked him out. He slunk out after washing his hands, weaving between the tables laden with boxes of sweet smelling winter fruit, pomegranates and apples and pears. He selected and bought a few, just so it seemed like he didn't just follow everyone in there for no reason. Paying, he avoided the cashier's staring eyes, instead looking nervously over his shoulder at Jade. Jade was immaculately groomed as always, fiddling with the tail end of a purple scarf as he perused the different variations of apples, eyes downcast carefully on them as not to stray to Davey. He looked good, and that infuriated Davey, made him snarl rather than state the thank you he tossed to the cashier as he stalked out the door with his bag of fruits held tight in a furious fist. There were stupid phrases that kept on repeating in his mind, phrases like, leave me alone, just leave, stop hurting me. And by leave me alone, he actually meant throw me against a wall and beg me to take you back. Stop hurting me. It's funny, how things like that worked out in Davey's mind.

He wished he would have gone to the bus and called Nils or Ryan or anyone else on his lengthy list of people so infatuated with him they'd listen to his bitching for hours, but as angry as he wished he was over Jade's attitude, mostly he was mortifying broken up about it. He didn't want to vent to a harem member, he wanted to curl up and cry all alone and listen to songs about celibacy that Moz wrote. It was pretty embarrassing. He slunk back into his bunk, closing the curtains tight and feeling like a complete pathetic idiot for literally swallowing a fucking lump in his throat. 

"Only another hour till we hit the hotel, dude." Smith said to someone as they returned to the bus, and he must have really been goddamn loud because Davey heard it over his headphones. One more hour of this motion sickness, and then he can cry in the shower like a proper heartbroken prom queen. Davey really hated the central valley. Practically didn't count as California. 

~*~

Like the entire region of the state it was located in, their hotel in Fresno is an utter shithole. They actually, for the first time since they toured for the Art of Drowning, honest to god have to fucking share hotel rooms. It was only two to a room this time instead of six guys stuffed into so tight it was like a game or sardines where the loser gets the bathtub, but still. It had put a dent in Davey and Jade's then active sex life to be in such close quarters with the rest of the band and crew, so in those days this would have been a godsend. But no, the room sharing shit happened when Jade won't even look at Davey, and Davey really needed a night alone with his self pity. 

Because he was sure as hell not sharing a room with Jade, Davey gets stuck with Adam, who snores but other than that is pretty unobtrusive to live with. The room was coated in ugly as fuck green paisley wall paper, and even though they asked for a non smoking room the place positively reeked of old nicotine, which Davey loudly noted as they slung their luggage onto respective beds. 

"Well this certainly deserves five stars," He mocked, holding his nose dramatically between thumb and fore finger. 

"Yeah, well what do you expect in Fresno, huh?" Adam sighed, collapsing onto the bed with his limbs outstretched. "I could fall asleep right now."

"Yeah, I'm beat," Davey half lied. It wasn't entirely bullshit because he was exhausted, a bone exhaustion that was impossible to shake when on tour for long enough, no matter how many hours actually spent sleeping. If Davey played a show every night, he was fucked up for the next day and the next, he just never recovered. Regardless, he really couldn't sleep right now if he tried. He was antsy inside, too much caffeine antsy, Christmas morning antsy, running into your ex antsy. 

"Mind if I get dibs on first shower?" Davey asked, already stripping and kicking his clothes haphazardly around the room, little puddles of grey and black shed from his body. 

"No problem, just make it quick and leave me some hot water," Adam mumbled, fiddling with the remote and trying to get the TV station on anything other than fucking HBO softcore. 

Davey locked the bathroom door behind him, exhaling carefully. He'd brought his toiletries in with him, an impressive clear vinyl zip up carrying care that contained more bottles and tubes and jars than your average beauty salon. Various crew members had bet money it was the reason Davey's checked baggage was often charged for being oversized. He removed each bottle, aligning it on the edge of the bathtub, gingerly feeling the spray of the shower every few seconds. While the water regulated Davey regarded his reflection in the mirror, free of eyeliner, face hollow and puffy at the same time. He looked sick. No wonder Jade couldn't hold his gaze for more than .02 seconds up onstage. His dark eyes looked sunken, His feet were positively freezing, toes ready to break and fall off. He hated the cold but he hated the sun even more, leaving a very small window of days California weather fit into that pleased him even remotely. No wonder Davey was such a miserable fucking person. 

But he wasn't always like that, Davey thought as he stepped into the steaming shower spray, hissing as it hit his ice block feet. No, he had been a cheery enough fellow at some point in his life. Just now, now things were bad. And they'd been worse before a few times in the past, but he hadn't been alone to deal with them then so he'd eventually come out on top. After all, suicidal people don't ever not kill themselves because they magically decide they want to live. It eventually becomes about that when they're functioning members of society again, but initially, suicidal people refrain from suicide because someone else loves them enough to make the act too selfish to commit. That's how things worked for Davey, anyway. Not that he was suicidal right now, that is. No, he was having a bad day. 

A bad day alone. He stood in the shower, letting the steam swirl so thickly around him if he held his arms straight out, he could hardly see his pale hands against the off white surrounding him. What a fuckin' ugly shower this was, Davey thought, referring to it's dingy linoleum that wasn't quite clean enough for his standards. Luckily there was so much steam he hardly had to look at the sub par conditions, not to mention his eyes were glassing over with static every time he turned his head. Too hot, most definitely. It felt good, this punishment, this dizziness. Yup, Davey had to sit down before he toppled over and cracked his head open on the ugly, central valley hotel shower's dirty floor. The brief image of red slicking the walls in gory handprints he'd no doubt leave if he tried to scramble up the walls in his state of delirium crossed his mind. Sitting down now to prevent image becoming reality. Right now. 

The floor of the shower was awesome. Davey didn't care it was the ugliest shower in the ugliest part of the state anymore, he was enjoying curling up with his head in his inked arms and listening to the clatter of water explode around him. It was like a ride. And he was really fucking dizzy now, cringing as water slid into his ear and made him shiver. That's when the maddening itch started in his ankles. It wasn't bad at first, just a slight annoying tingling. He positioned so the excruciatingly hot water, which was already pummeling the skin of his back into a bright pink, hit his feet. It was a trick his mother taught him when he was growing up and got poison ivy, to blast it with hot water to scratch the itch. He wasn't supposed to scratch with his nails, that would just spread the rash, so this burn of water was all that was allowed. Of course, Davey never listened and scratched it anyway, causing the shower to wash the poisonous oil all the way down his legs or arms, leaving angry red bumps in its wake. 

It began in his feet, probably some side effect of them thawing out from the godawful subzero weather they'd been subjected to. But the water wasn't enough, they just continued itching like a motherfucker, so badly that Davey literally had to sit bolt up right, shampoo water from his sopping hair running in his eyes as he attacked his feet, thankful to the God of fashion that his nails were actually long enough to be effective. He scratched along his ankle bones, his arches, between his toes, grey soap buildup and dried skin gathering under his nails with the pink polish chipping off. Much to his discomfort, however, whichever part he wasn't scratching still itched unbearably. It was driving him insane and he needed something that would cover more space, anything...the water was drowning him, getting in his mouth and nose so he consistently spit it out. No bother, he tore into his zip up case like a mad man, finding the nail brush he had, its handle a translucent plastic green penguin. 

He grasped the penguin with vigor, started scrubbing the skin of his feet raw and red. He noticed the old scars there were burning with a new fierce intensity, showing up swollen and red when they usually were nearly faded to nothing, white, hair thin lines in butter. Could that be what was itching? Could scars that old, scars from the last time he was alone, actually open up and itch like that? Davey scrubbed harder, fingers tight and wrinkled around the penguin. It felt slightly better, but now the itch was spreading, no longer centered to his feet but creeping up his toned calves, this under the skin drying itch like a new tattoo just healing. He scrubbed away, up his ankles, knees, soft flushed thighs. By that time it was too late for him to realize he was freaking out. And he was, certainly, in the midst of a full blown panic attack by now. He vaguely knew this, but like all thought processes that led to panic attacks, it still seemed freshly logical in his mind. He was halfway aware of the fact Adam was yelling for him, but he didn't care. Ht itched to badly to care. 

"Jesus Christ Dave, you need to wear better ear plugs onstage, I think you're going deaf, I've been calling you for five minutes!" Adam screamed, rapping his knuckles on the shower door. So he'd actually bust into the goddamn room, Davey must have forgotten to lock it. 

"What do you want?" Davey asked, his voice coming out alarmingly high. He tried sounding all casual but failed miserably. 

He heard Adam mutter a muffled "What the fuck..." Before opening the door on him sitting there on the floor of the shower scrubbing his legs with a green penguin brush. Davey looked innocently up, eyes wide, cheeks bright pink with hot water. They regarded each other in momentary silence, Davey feigning nonchalance, Adam feigning competence. Adam liked to think he was competent in these sorts of situations, but truth of the matter was he had no fucking clue as to how to deal with Davey scrubbing his legs off. 

"Uh, what are you doing?" he asked, cocking his head. His hair was starting to puff up from the humidity in the air. 

"I could ask you the same thing. You're looking at me in the shower while I'm naked, stud." Davey tried to be cute, tried to play the tired old flirtation card he always utilized with Adam, who humored him better than anyone else since they'd been friends for so long. Didn't work, Adam still looked freaked out. 

"Dave. You were in here for almost an hour, I started to think you'd drowned.." Adam said. 

An hour? Really? That long? It felt like only a few minutes, and the water was still scalding, so Adam must be lying. Or something. Davey glanced down at his legs, bright red and raw from his nail-brush abuse. It was always too late when Davey realized he was in the throes of panic and lunacy. 

"I left you hot water. It's alright," Davey said quietly, wiping his hair from his eyes, plastering it to his forehead. 

"I'm not worried about the temperature, dude. I thought I was going to find a big, flesh colored prune in here with wing tattoos." 

Davey just sat there silently, distracted by the thundering of water over his head, slicking his hair, melting him. He kept scrubbing his feet, imagining what it would feel like to melt into the ugly ass Fresno shower, disintegrating into a puddle of skin and ink. 

"Dave, you listening to me?"

"Yes."

"You're not. I asked you if you were okay."

"I'm fine. I just had the water too hot and I haven't eaten hardly anything today," Davey said automatically, regarding his manicured toenails, the magenta polish that had chipped off of mostly every nail save for the biggest one. He was dizzy still, even though he was sitting down. God, his fucking feet itched so bad, and he had blisters on weird parts of his hands, how the hell did that happen? His thumbs, where his ring finger joined to his palm. What. The. Fuck. 

"Dave, I'm getting Jade, okay?" Adam finally said, and Davey snapped right out of it. 

"No!" He said, scrambling up so he was standing, head swimming, junk hanging out for everyone to see. Adam cringed, shielding his eyes from the utterly terrifying monster that was Davey's dick. And he was fine now, really was. No longer freaking out or panicking, nope. And his feet had magically stopped itching. He was right as rain. Just miserable as hell. Seriously, and it was days like this that made the whole situation worse, days when he knew they knew, when Adam alluded to Jade and him and whatever they had or used to have. Days that confirmed that the reason Jade up and left wasn't even a legitimate reason because Adam knew. Made Davey want to waltz up to Jade, push him, scream at him, tell him the fuck off for being such a pathetic coward. For hurting him so badly, breaking his heart, his pride. Because Adam, Hunter, Smith, anyone with a set of goddamn eyes knew.

Adam definitely knew because he was gone, walking to the hotel room Jade and Smith were sharing so he could drag Jade in here because Davey was insufferable, panicking in the shower just like old times. And then Davey felt really awful, because he knew the real reason Jade left wasn't because he was scared of anyone knowing, or a coward, or anything like that. All of those may have played into it, sure, but most of all, Jade left because Davey was completely miserable to be around. And that was the honest to god truth. Jade, like everyone else in the world, got tired of taking care of Davey, of keeping him sane, of being that person who loved Davey enough to stop the suicide, the scars on his ankles. what have you. 

And Davey was stupid to think anyone could withstand that much shit from one person. He supposed that's why he was here right now, swaying in the shower, arms straight out like sticks keeping him upright. He took a deep breath, coughing like a fucking smoker because the air was so thick with water vapor. Turn the tap off with shaking fingers. stumble out into the bathroom, yank a damp towel off the rack. Wrap up like a burrito. Baby steps into the bedroom, collapse onto the bed. Baby steps. Right as rain. 

Davey was seriously fine now, he just needed his head to clear. 

He watched the ugly ceiling, swirling patterns of yellow nicotine stains moving around on their own free will. Davey thought this was what it must be like to be on LSD, too hot a shower, not enough food. He heard Adam standing at the door, conversing with Jade in a hushed voice. Attempting to eavesdrop on what they were saying, the only thing Davey could pick out was Adam saying, "see if you can get him to eat something. He's losing weight again." Jade was silent on the other end, letting the statement hang in the air. It left a bad taste in Davey's mouth and he licked his lips, struggling to sit upright. He felt like a baby or a dog, something incapable of understanding human dialect the way Jade and Adam were discussing him and his weight loss right where he could hear them, talking about him like he was the subject of that Alanis Morrissette song, Mary Jane. 

He tried to remember the lyrics, ignoring the concerned whispered from the door frame, ignoring the hideous wall paper. I hear you're losing weight again Mary Jane, do you ever wonder who you're losing it for? Then something about a roller coaster. Never wanting to dance anymore. Jesus, this song could have been written about him. He didn't want to see Jade, didn't want to see the indifference or disgust or whatever else might be smacked across his face like paint. He didn't want to know. He hated Jade. Plain up and hated him, hated how badly he made him want to break his fucking chest open and tear his skin apart it itched so bad and just scream, look at me, goddmnit, look at what you've done to me. I hate you. You left me. I still love you. I still love you and I hate myself because this is all my fucking fault for being a miserable bastard. Heading full speed in the wrong direction, losing weight again, counting sheep again, Mary Jane.

Suddenly Jade was standing in front of him, wide eyes looking concerned, hair sticking up a little bit in back. Davey was startled to be holding his gaze, for their eyes to meet at all. His stomach twisted, tiny knots loosening and tightening for the first time Jade actually looked at him in god knows how long. Davey didn't say anything, worried he might choke on the words. His eyes dropped.

"What's up." Jade said gently, shuffling his feet on the floor, hands wringing. He looked like he wanted to sit down but wasn't sure how; most of all he had the air about him of someone who knew they fucked up and didn't know how to fix it. 

"Nothing. I'm fine. My shower was too hot, I got dizzy," Davey said flatly, picking at the skin around his nails, tearing at his mysterious blisters with his teeth. He noticed Jade roll his eyes, looking distressed, hands flying to his face, hair. Even now he was a pain in Jade's ass. I hear you're losing weight again, Mary Jane...

"Dave. Don't lie to me, okay? I know you." Jade sighed, finally using his better judgment and sitting down next to Davey on the bed, keeping a safe distance but still close enough to make Davey tense. He tightened his towel around him, making sure everything below the waist was carefully covered. 

"What do you want me to tell you, Jade?" 

"Just...Adam said you had an episode."

"Well I didn't. I sat on the floor. Big fucking deal." Davey scoffed. Jade just looked so upset, eyes huge and brown and sappy in his face. About ready to brim over with tears if Davey didn't know better. This must really have been torture for Jade, counseling Davey even after they'd broken up. The poor guy couldn't escape it, couldn't fucking get away from the very reason he dumped his needy, depressed ass. Davey felt guilty as fuck. 

"Adam said...Adam said you were hurting yourself" Jade finally choked out, brow furrowing, top row of crooked, jacked up teeth biting into his plush lower lip. He looked positively betrayed, hurt to the core. "I mean I guess I shouldn't expect-" He started to add, but Davey cut him off. 

"Dude! I swear I wasn't, Adam is full of shit, Jade, I promise I wasn't. Look-" Davey tugged the towel off his crossed legs, offering the pink, still damp canvas of his ankles up for Jade to examine. Davey thought his eyes might scan the flesh before deeming it satisfactory. But no, Jade reached out and grabbed Davey, yanking his ankle up and scrutinizing it, running his long fingers over the old scars, searching for new ones. Davey felt sort of sick, still guilty, all kinds of longing. So Jade still cared. That was a shocker. 

"Okay," Jade finally said gruffly, letting Davey go. 

"Happy?"

"I...christ. You scared the shit out of me, Dave, I..." Jade sputtered, hands in his lap twitching like he wanted to reach out and embrace Davey but knew he couldn't. 

"Full speed baby, in the wrong direction."   
"What?" 

"Alanis Morrissette." Davey answered. "Trying to remember that song…"

"Oh."

"See, I'm fine." 

"That's debatable, I mean, Alanis…"

"She's great." 

"Thats...that's debatable." Jade trailed off, voice getting quiet. They looked at each other for a long time, Jade eyes a shade darker than usual, swimming with something blurry and unreadable. His hand had found its way to Davey's bony knee, resting there unsure. Davey got the feeling that if Jade looked down, he'd be surprised to find that he was touching him, regardless of how painfully aware of Jade's every shuffle and restless eye twitch and breath Davey may have been. Of every inch of them that may have been touching. 

It was moments like these, when Jade just looked at him, that made Davey question whether they were really better off apart. Or, more specifically, if Jade was better off without him. Davey could certainly speak for himself in this matter. But those eyes, dark and wet and still caring about the state of Davey's ankles, what did that mean? Why did Jade never meet his eyes onstage, tilt into his touch, anything? Did that mean he literally couldn't stand him, like Davey most often assumed, or did Jade know that if he allowed his eyes to hold Davey's like this once more, he wouldn't be able to stay away any longer? That he didn't trust himself?

Jade glanced down, biting his lip.

Wishful thinking, Davey assumed. 

"Will you try and eat something?" Jade finally asks a little desperately, eyes focused anywhere but Davey. His hand flew off by then, returning to its partner to wring in his lap, sweating and guilty. When he realized he was touching Davey he leapt away, like his skin had touched a hot plate. Davey's heart clenched a little at that, beating itself up, blaming itself. 

"I bought some fruit earlier today..." Davey murmured, hopping up from the bed still clutching his towel, rummaging through his oversized purse he'd insist to anyone who asked was a man bag. He found the white paper sack, which held a couple or oranges, apples, persimmons. He hated winter fruit, pomegranates were the only things worth eating, but they took so much work to get into, to find the sweet part. Davey must have had a penchant for shit like that, seeing as Jade's heart was like a motherfuckin' pomegranate. Davey grudgingly selected an orange, holding it up to Jade. 

"Start it for me?" he asked, batting his lashes mockingly.

"God, Dave..." Jade sighed, rolling his eyes but managing to crack a smile, digging his long guitar nail into the puckered orange peel. He handed it back to Davey with a chunk of a rind missing to reveal the pale, soft tissue underneath. Davey took over from there, trying and failing to remove the rest of the peel on one, fluid piece. He sneezed once, then again. 

"I'm allergic to you," he mumbled, glancing up at Jade, wiping his nose. 

Jade stared at him, plush lips Davey knew the exact feel of wrapped around his cock parting slightly, like he wanted to say something. Like he wanted to apologize. Beg. Anything. Davey hated winter fruit, and he was in the central valley which was hardly California. He always forgot he was in California, but here, this orange tasted like the fucking sun. Like Los Angeles, the beach. Like the whole state, even the ugly parts. And still Jade wouldn't say anything, just stare at Davey one eyed through that stupid blonde fringe or hair, silently saying, I hear you're counting sheep again, Mary Jane. I hear you're losing weight again, Mary Jane. And maybe Davey hadn't been able to remember that last lyric, but it just hit him in the fucking head right then when the orange segment exploded in his mouth like all of California. 

"And that's why...I love you..." He said, softly, sing song. It was a lyric, is really was Davey thought, mind racing. Look the stupid song up if you don't believe me. Too fucking late, though. Wishful thinking.

And Jade's face fell, everything fell. Whatever little part of Jade that wasn't ugly and grey like the central valley, whatever sunshine was left in that orange, shriveled up inside him, hard and red. Heart like a pomegranate. Wishful thinking, Davey thought, and Jade closed off, eyes stopping their dark, longing swimming and sucking right up back into him and turning sharp and glassy. He arranged himself stiffly, shuffling away from Davey on the bed like he just realized he was naked save for that pathetic hotel towel. 

"I better go." he said quietly, scanning the hideous floral pattern on the bedspread like it didn't hurt his eyes. Davey felt something pop in his chest, and didn't say anything in response. His feet started itching again, what the fucking fuck? Blisters raw and throbbing on his palms. He felt like he was trying to hold onto something that was too quick and fine, corn silk, the meaning of his own songs, water. All slipping from his palms because he knew once and for all that he was a miserable person to be around, and it didn't matter whether or not Adam or anyone else knew or if Jade was a coward, he was still a depressed, energy sucking leech of a person, of a lover. His head dropped, unbearably heavy as he hurtled full speed, in the wrong direction. 

Jade was halfway out the door when he turned around, looking over his shoulder at the floor, not at Davey. "Are you sure you're okay, Dave?" He asked, voice gentle, grasp on the door frame white-knuckled. 

"Right as rain," Davey said cheerfully, squeezing the orange with his other palm so forcefully the juice drained out onto the hotel bedspread and made his fingers sticky. Who the hell cared? That bedspread was the ugliest part of California, anyway.


End file.
